Knives at my Throat

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I suppose it is my insanity as much as my sanity that drives away most men. Like a kick to the twat, I recoil for a minute only to drive a final blow to the head dress that lures over me like a dark castle not yet seized by my reluctant forces.

I know they eat the mud for sustenance and stretch the skins of fallen citizens to catch the rain. They look upon each other with greater prize of nourishment, our presence adds titillating reluctance to act, but offers a future promise that if they do, their pain will be stilled.For the few that survive, they will be hardened like diamonds and I as master, will sell their beauty to the highest bidder for another day in damnation.